Sunday
Meet you on the Sunnyside
We have moved- it took an entire week- a six pack, an indoor barbeque, two terapins, five car trips, a speeding fine and a bad hair day to get here.
We're staying
We're staying
Tuesday
But, shouldn't there be a table there?
I come from a household full of "eclectic" individuals, no one more
eclectically challenged than my father.
This weekend was to be no different... in we walk on Friday evening
greeted by cats, dogs, turtle, brothers, parents and... a big large
space where the kitchen table used to once inhabit the area that was
once the dining area.
No one mentioned the missing furniture, no one spoke of a terrible
accident that had led to its demise and no-one explained when it would
be returning. Instead the brothers grimm (the two younger ones) went
outside for a suspicious length of time and returned with some sort of
make shift situation. No one spoke as they assembled to the best of
their abilities a dining "nook". I call it nook what I mean is a rust
contraption of four legs with a clean(ish) plank of wood over the top.
Then to set off the motif they put a table cloth over the mess and put
the tea pot on top.
Now I have read enough Irish literature to know this is acceptable- in
the 1920s. Therefore I had to investigate. Usually one didn't have to
go much further than PJ "I think we have one in stock" Guiry. So that
was my first stop. The man was surprisingly tight lipped about the
whole thing, he had other problems it would seem. The tractor got
stuck in the river when he was launching his boat (wtf...). Apparently
it was not a good time to bother him.
I moved on until I reached the next most likely responsible for this
act- the youngest but most powerful of my brothers. "What are you
talking about Cia, the table is grand, if you'll excuse me PJ got the
tractor stuck in the river and I must....". I stopped listening when I
realised that they were in cahoots. The men disappeared on Friday
evening and returned joyously. On the tractor.
I decided that the best approach was outright inquiry- "eh lads...
just wondering, where is the kitchen table?".
The pan ultimate brother looked at me as if I had sprouted another
head- "It's being painted, where the hell did you think it was when
you came in?!".
"Why are they painting the table? I thought it looked grand the last
time I saw it."
"Ah yeah, it was grand, but PJ decided to sand it and it didn't really work."
"How can a table not work?"
And with that the brother departed, he seemingly grew tired of my
pointless and needless questioning.
So here I sit, still questioning the situation, worrying about the
table and wondering how it was water torture would have helped me in
the situation...
eclectically challenged than my father.
This weekend was to be no different... in we walk on Friday evening
greeted by cats, dogs, turtle, brothers, parents and... a big large
space where the kitchen table used to once inhabit the area that was
once the dining area.
No one mentioned the missing furniture, no one spoke of a terrible
accident that had led to its demise and no-one explained when it would
be returning. Instead the brothers grimm (the two younger ones) went
outside for a suspicious length of time and returned with some sort of
make shift situation. No one spoke as they assembled to the best of
their abilities a dining "nook". I call it nook what I mean is a rust
contraption of four legs with a clean(ish) plank of wood over the top.
Then to set off the motif they put a table cloth over the mess and put
the tea pot on top.
Now I have read enough Irish literature to know this is acceptable- in
the 1920s. Therefore I had to investigate. Usually one didn't have to
go much further than PJ "I think we have one in stock" Guiry. So that
was my first stop. The man was surprisingly tight lipped about the
whole thing, he had other problems it would seem. The tractor got
stuck in the river when he was launching his boat (wtf...). Apparently
it was not a good time to bother him.
I moved on until I reached the next most likely responsible for this
act- the youngest but most powerful of my brothers. "What are you
talking about Cia, the table is grand, if you'll excuse me PJ got the
tractor stuck in the river and I must....". I stopped listening when I
realised that they were in cahoots. The men disappeared on Friday
evening and returned joyously. On the tractor.
I decided that the best approach was outright inquiry- "eh lads...
just wondering, where is the kitchen table?".
The pan ultimate brother looked at me as if I had sprouted another
head- "It's being painted, where the hell did you think it was when
you came in?!".
"Why are they painting the table? I thought it looked grand the last
time I saw it."
"Ah yeah, it was grand, but PJ decided to sand it and it didn't really work."
"How can a table not work?"
And with that the brother departed, he seemingly grew tired of my
pointless and needless questioning.
So here I sit, still questioning the situation, worrying about the
table and wondering how it was water torture would have helped me in
the situation...
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